


That Which Remains

by ultrapsychobrat



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrapsychobrat/pseuds/ultrapsychobrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rebellion is over and life goes on, just on a slightly different path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Remains

He sat numbly, staring at the flickering vid screen, caught in the bitter aftermath of failure and defeat. All the years, all the hardships, deaths and sacrifices—all for nothing. Freedom left lying bloodied and dying on the battleground, discarded by those to whom it had been offered, uncomfortable and unwelcomed.

Bread and circuses was all they wanted, all they would accept. Decision making was too hard, too time consuming; leave it to those who knew how. And answering the call to duty, ever willing to suffer for her people, was the known and beloved Servalan. As she accepted the symbols of her mighty office, she smiled at him. Oh, yes, she knew he would be watching—watching and grieving and sick at soul—and the pleasure that knowledge gave her was clear to see in her eyes.

Where had it all gone so wrong? All those years ago, they had been an unstoppable team—the rebel, the cynic, the thief, the strong man, the pilot, the warrior, and the miracle ship. Gan, their own gentle giant, had been the first to go, not strong enough to survive Blake's foolish dreams. He himself had left because he had not been insightful enough the read past the cynic's fear to the love beneath. He'd always trusted Avon, true, but that trust had not extended to Avon's love for him. And Jenna, poor Jenna, had followed him to her death, as Cally had followed Avon in his mad quest to find his lost love. The gentle warrior and that wonderful ship had also been destroyed because of him. And maybe that had truly been the beginning of the end. With only Vila left from the _Liberator_, Avon had dragged his new crew through his own personal hell of obsessive love and paranoia. Vila had finally just walked away from all of it, probably the wisest of them all.

He felt strong fingers grip his shoulders from behind, straightening the weary slump, and he leaned back against the strength of this man who had borne so much of the weight of a dream that was not his own. There were no words to express the depth of his disappointment or the guilt he felt for those he had led to this stone wall of defeat. The hands squeezed gently.

"Are you ready?"

He tilted his head back to look up at Avon, who smiled down at him. "I suppose. There's nothing to stay here for, in any case."

Avon removed his hands and turned away, picking up his last case that contained the various data cubes that chronicled the years of the rebellion. He insisted on taking these historical records with them, denying any hint of sentimentality, only the need for proof in the face of the recidivists who were sure to follow. Blake stood up and accompanied him out to the flyer.

^*^*^*^*^*^

There were unfamiliar star patterns on the view screen, as there had been for days now. They had fled Federation space at the first possible moment, knowing Servalan would want them dead as proof of her power to protect her loyal citizens from any further disruption of services by those heartless rebels. The ship they'd purchased was not, of course, anywhere near the scale of _Liberator_ or even _Scorpio_, but it could be handled by the two of them and was large enough so they needn't feel claustrophobic. Their first stop had been a lengthy stay on a neutral planet where, with the help of ORAC's infallible memory and Avon's access to hoarded funds, they had managed to refit the ship with a star drive, a teleport system, advanced med set up, detector shields, and some rather heavy armaments. This last had also been at Avon's insistance, since they were heading into unexplored territory and, he'd reminded Blake, just because there would be no Federation didn't mean there would be no danger.

And, now, here they were, a very far distance from anywhere they'd been before. ORAC was still an independent unit, although he—it, damn it—was, of course, coordinating everything. Avon was in the process of constructing a Zen-like computer to do most of the routine tasks, since ORAC insisted he needed to be free to do research. This flight into the unknown seemed to have exhilerated the testy computer more than anything Blake could remember.

 

He looked over at Avon, who sat at the computer console, charting the physical information for future use. He was so focused, just like he had often been on Liberator all those years ago—was it really only seven? He had changed, of course; the sleek dark hair was now lightly threaded with silver, permanent lines of worry creased the handsome face, and the dark eyes—those eyes that never left him for more than a few minutes—always watched the world around them with an unfaltering alertness. Oh, my Avon, why do you still love me? I've put you through such hell. But love him he did, unaccountably and completely. Blake knew it was the reason for his own survival. After the disaster of Gauda Prime, Avon had somehow conjured from the heart break a magic circle of safety which had enclosed them both. From that time forth nothing had touched them, not blasters, bombs, or the treachery of those sent to hunt them. Not that he would ever speak a word of this belief to Avon, the very idea made him smile.

"What do you find so amusing?"

Blake's smile broke into a grin, as he shook his head. He looked back at the flight controls, avoiding the probing stare fixed on him. "Want some tea?" he asked and swiveled round in his seat to get up, only to come up against the solid bulk of Avon. He sat back down, hard, and looked up at the intense face.

"You know I don't like secrets," Avon said quietly, leaning down to place his hands on the chair arms to either side of Blake.

The smile was but a shadow of the old, menacing one that had so often been directed at Blake in the past. Now, it merely served to amuse him further. "Oh, I know, Avon...I know." He ran his hands up Avon's arms and tried to pull him down into a kiss, but his grip was shrugged off as Avon straightened and took a step back.

"That won't work. You are going to tell me and you know it, so stop wasting time." There was no threat in his voice, just a soft promise.

"But that would be so boring," Blake said, a frission of desire running down his spine. How he could still be this turned on so quickly by this man this many years into their relationship was the continuing mystery and wonder of his life. And that his feelings were returned in equal measure was beyond comprehension. "Besides, aren't you busy?" he teased.

Avon's eyebrow went up, and his smile turned wicked. "Perhaps I shall be busy for a very, very long time. You can entertain yourself, I trust." With that he returned to his computer console and began working again.

Blake sighed and stood up. Sometimes, it was difficult to know when to push and when to back off; Avon was never easy. He made his way to the galley, took two real tea pods out of the canister, got down two self-heating mugs from the cupboard and dropped a pod in each. Filling the mugs from the boiling water spigot, he left them on the counter to finish brewing while he set the food processor for chocolate flavored biscuits. One of the upgrades he had insisted on was an enhanced food processor. While standard nutrient bars would sustain life, they certainly weren't appetizing, and they were going to be on their own for who knew how long, so…chocolate biscuits.

He carried the tray through to the forward area and set it down on the central conference table. "Tea's up." He sat in one of the padded chairs and popped a biscuit into his mouth. Avon didn't even look up. Blake sighed, got to his feet, and carried a mug of tea over to the computer work station. He set it down out of the way, and stood looking at the monitor screen for a minute. "Found anything interesting?"

"It's all interesting, since knowing what's out there determines our future safety."

He ran one hand lightly over the soft, thick hair down to the nape of Avon's neck and felt the cat-like movement of muscles pressing into the caress, something he always loved. Avon's sensitivity to touch was one of the most exciting things about him. "Tired?" he asked, moving behind him to massage the tight shoulders.

Avon leaned back against him, closing his eyes for a few moments. When he looked up again, his eyes were questioning? "What's going to happen to us? Or do you care?"

Blake shrugged and leaned down to kiss him briefly. "As long as we're together, it doesn't really matter, does it?" He returned to the table, sat down, and popped another chocolate biscuit in his mouth.

Leaning forward, Avon picked up his cup of tea, cradling it in both hands. "Well, speaking just for myself, I'd sort of like whatever it is to be pleasant—or, at least, not life-threatening." He smiled over at Blake and drank some of the tea. "I suppose, however, you'd prefer some greater purpose."

Blake shook his head and drank from his mug. "No, I don't think so, not anymore. I just want to be with you, nothing else. Let someone else take on the causes."

Avon smiled again, but said nothing.

"I mean it," he said firmly. "I've learned my lesson. Let someone else fight the good fight—I'm tired, and I know you never wanted any part of it to begin with."

"Are you telling me that if we stumble across a downtrodden people who need a Fearless Leader to save them, you'll turn your back and just keep traveling?"

"Absolutely." And he meant it. "People have to save themselves, otherwise they have no stake in their freedom. But you already knew that, didn't you?" His gaze locked with Avon's in a truly honest moment.

"You're crediting me with too much wisdom, Blake. I simply knew you were always better than the rabble you were trying to help."

Better? Well, that was debatable. He laughed briefly. "That's not what you said."

Avon smiled and shrugged. "I was trying to make you stop your suicidal behavior, not flatter you. Although, if that would have worked, who knows…."

"Flattery isn't exactly your style."

"Oh, I don't know. Let's see, I could have said how much I like the way your hair curls around my fingers and the way your eyes darken with desire and how you think I prefer to be left alone when I'm angry—"

"Now, wait a minute—you've always told me to get away from you."

"Yes."

"But that's not true?"

Avon shrugged one shoulder and sat forward to resume his work.

Blake sighed. What was to become of him and his difficult lover? Did it matter? Whatever it was, they would face it together, each in their own way, but together. That was really the point of this odd thing called life, wasn't it, to find your one true love and hang onto them with all your strength? It had taken him far too long to realize that. And if now he was discovering new things about his love, well, that just made the future a lot brighter. He drank the last of his tea and smiled. Considering all the alternatives, this life that remained to them was pretty damned good.


End file.
